


Scorpius's Beloved Bathilda Bagshot

by grangerweasleys



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Inspired by the play/Samuel Blenkin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 16:24:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11695443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grangerweasleys/pseuds/grangerweasleys
Summary: "My daughter’s first word is Bathilda," Rose whispered. "Bathilda.""Well, I believe she said ‘Ba-Wilda’ but close enough,” Scorpius replied. “I knew it! I saw that little glint in her eyes whenever I read ‘A Children’s History of Magic’ to her! My daughter!"-----In which Scorpius and Rose's daughter's first word is 'Ba-Wilda', after Scorpius's beloved Bathilda Bagshot, and Rose is not amused.





	Scorpius's Beloved Bathilda Bagshot

**Author's Note:**

> I know a lot of my fics refer to Scorpius's love of Bathilda and I often have played it up but Samuel Blenkin looked absolutely heart-broken and crushed as Scorpius when Craig took away his copy of 'History of Magic', so I couldn't not write this.

Draco Malfoy had little expectations from being a Grandfather. His first introduction to the concept was, of course, his own: Abraxas Malfoy, a stern man who had paid little attention to Draco — his sole interest refined to his Grandson preserving the Malfoy name.

In the immediate years after the War, Draco did not expect to marry or bear a child — never mind a grandchild. Astoria, of course, and his sweet baby boy, changed all of that and at 5:03am on the 12th of February 2033, his Granddaughter came wailing into the world. 

Draco had been adamant that Scorpius was the most perfect little thing on the planet. He had scoffed at the fussing in the papers over Albus and Rose, who had been born in the same year as him. They were not nearly as beautiful as his own baby boy. 

The minute that Draco had felt the mere hours old Astoria Hermione Malfoy’s touch on his skin, however, he realised that Scorpius would be needing to share his title.

Astoria was the most perfect baby: she looked more like Rose with her deep skin, thick clumps of curly hair, and facial features but, Draco had immediately recognised, she had their pouty Malfoy lips — and, as time progressed, Astoria’s eyes developed into the clear blue of her paternal grandmother. 

There was one —  significant — distinguishing feature about little Astoria. One that separated her from the rest of her family: her quietness.

At fourteen months, Astoria had failed to babble noises that even slightly resembled a ‘ma’ or a ‘da’.  She rarely laughed, though she was constantly smiling silently, and never cried as much as Scorpius or Rose had. 

Draco was watching her curiously, that Tuesday evening, as she crawled around the carpet after the miniature Quidditch figures that her Auntie Ginny and Uncle Harry had gifted her for her first birthday. Astoria did not make a sound or say a word, her little face too intent on catching the figures with her chubby hands. 

She was both so alike and unalike to Scorpius as a child, Draco thought: the inquisitiveness was the same, the same fascination with the world, and yet utterly different to Scorpius’s loudness. 

Astoria crawled around to catch a quaffle and when she noticed Draco watching her, her face lit up and she grinned. Draco smiled back, his insides melting at the sight of his little, perfect Granddaughter, and he stood up.

“Your Mum and Dad will be back any moment now,” he said, lifting her up and into his arms. As Draco did not work and Ron had always worked part-time at the joke store, the pair of them divided looking after Astoria when Scorpius and Rose were at work. 

Astoria’s eyes darted away from her Grandfather’s when she noticed the small snitch fluttering around them. She reached out to catch it, clenching her fist, and pouting when she then opened it to reveal nothing inside.

“That’s okay. Scorpius was a Keeper and I was never a very good Seeker.” He paused. “But your Uncle Harry must never know that I admitted that.”

Draco stopped when he heard the clanks of Rose’s heels walking up the patio stairs and the sound of her unlocking the door with her wand. She opened the door into the living room and her face lit up.

“Oh, hello there!” She said, taking Astoria from Draco and smothering her face with kisses. “Have you missed me? How has she been?”

“Perfect, as usual.”

“You would say that even if she blew the house apart, Draco,” Rose said. She cupped Astoria’s face with her hand and stroked her cheek with her thumb. “Daddy will be home soon. Can you say that, Astoria? _Da-Da?_ ”

Astoria stared at her mother and her lips did not move.

“How about _Ma-Ma_?” Rose said, brightly. “Or.. or what about _Pa-Pa?_ Did you enjoy your day with your _Pa-Pa?_ ”

“You’ve certainly changed,” Draco scoffed. “No more being picky about her first word, I see.”

Rose glared at him. “Well,” she said. “While I did want her first word to be _Ma-Ma_ or _Da-Da_ , we’re in desperate territory now. I don’t think she’s going to say _anything_ any time soon.”

As Draco opened his mouth to respond, the pair heard Scorpius’s footsteps at the door. When he appeared at the doorway, his eye’s met his daughter’s and he pulled a face of excitement at her. 

“Hello!” He said, with Astoria grinning widely as he took her from Rose. He noticed the snitch flying above his head and smiled. “Training for the Quidditch World Cup, are we?”

“How about she learns how to talk first,” Rose said quickly. Draco shook his head in disbelief. “Well, I don’t want her flying around just yet! She’s too dainty. Like Scorpius as a baby.”

“Dangerously dainty, dangerously perfect,” Scorpius beamed. “Have we still not gotten a 'Ma' or a 'Da' out of you, our little silent ‘Storia? _M-Ma? D-D-Da?_ An _A?_ Or how about a Ba-"

“Scorpius!” Rose hissed. “What did I tell you —"

“Ba?” Asked Draco, raising his eyebrows.

“Shush!” Rose exclaimed. She lowered her voice. “Your son was encouraging your granddaughter’s first word to be… _Bathilda._ ”

“Bathilda?”

“Shh!” Rose scowled when Scorpius began to laugh. She swatted his arm. “Yes, Bathilda. After Bathilda Bagshot.”

“I, for one, do not see the fuss,” Scorpius interrupted. “She was an extremely — no, _thee_ most extremely talented magical historian of our times. It would be an honour.”

Rose covered Astoria’s ears with her palms. “And she was also murdered and possessed by Voldemort, wasn’t she? Not a particularly pleasant reminder for our daughter to be blurting out in public!”

“Well, it wasn’t her fault!” Scorpius responded, huffy. “I don’t see why we can’t celebrate her talents.”

“ _We_?” Rose shook her head. “ _You_ were the one that cried when your Dad gifted you a first edition copy of _A History of Magic_ for your seventeenth birthday, not me.”

“I would say _bawled_ is the more appropriate word,” Draco interjected. 

“Well, I, and my eternal adoration for the Queen of Wizarding History, can see that we are being ganged up upon,” Scorpius said. “But not to worry — I do have Astoria on my side. Can you say Bathildaaaaa…”

“Absolutely not!” Rose exclaimed, covering his mouth with her palm. “Her first word will not be…”

Scorpius jutted his head and broke free, pecking her lips as he did so. He muttered ‘Bathilda’ between pecks, Rose giggling before she decided to pull away. 

“Enough,” she said. “Her first word is not going to be that and we need to make dinner.”

Draco, Rose, and Scorpius’s heads all snapped to Astoria when she let out a loud coo from her father’s arms. Thoroughly entertained by both her parents, her face lit up into a wide smile. 

“Ah, do you like watching us, ‘Storia?” Scorpius said, cupping her face and kissing the top of her head. Astoria stared at her father and furrowed her brow. Her little lips pouted out and her face scrunched up. “Oh, is someone hungry and grumpy?”

He began to tickle her, relaxing her face, and removing the pout from her lips. “Is Steak Pie fine for you, Dad?”

“Excellent,” said Draco. He took Astoria from Scorpius, as his son and Rose made their way to the kitchen hand-in-hand.  “How is that law going at the Ministry, Rose?  I read in the _Prophet_ that…”

“When will you stop reading that trash, Draco?” Rose replied. “It’s always false.”

“Not everything. The new political editor was a friend of mine when…”

“Ba-Wilda!”

Neither Scorpius, nor Rose, nor Draco, could immediately comprehend what Astoria had just blurted. Both Draco and Rose had convinced themselves that it had been Scorpius who had said it, their reactionary shock so unable to comprehend what had just happened. Scorpius, on the other hand, struggled to believe that his already perfect daughter could be even _more_ perfect: her first word was in honour of _thee_ Bathilda Bagshot! His idol, Bathilda Bagshot! The greatest, most wonderful, talented, extraordinary Bathilda Bagshot! Writer of a _History of Magic!_

“Oh my,” Scorpius squeaked. “I—"

“My daughter’s first word is Bathilda,” Rose whispered. “ _Bathilda_.”

“Well, I believe she said ‘Ba-Wilda’ but close enough,” Scorpius replied. “I _knew_ it! I saw that little glint in her eyes whenever I read ‘A Children’s History of Magic’ to her! _My_ daughter!”

He reached in to swoop Astoria from his father’s arms. Draco quickly stepped away, his face hard, and his eyes flickering down to where the Dark Mark lay under his black shirt. 

“As Rose said, Scorpius, Bathilda’s end…”

“Made me cry when I first found out about it,” Scorpius said, glaring at his father. “But I will not allow my hero to be defined by her tragedy and neither will Astoria! Give her to me, Dad!”

“My daughter’s first word is Bathilda,” Rose repeated, her hand now curved onto her forehead. " _Bathilda_."

“Rose! She’s just warming up! Aren’t you? Give her to me, Dad!” Scorpius said, trying to grab a confused Astoria from Draco. “She’ll be saying 'Ma-Ma' and 'Da-Da' soon!”

“My daughter’s first word is Bathilda!” Rose said, her voice now significantly raised. She jumped when Astoria began to cry. “Oh — oh — oh no! Come here, Astoria!”

“Ba-Wilda,” Astoria cried out, her face now rapidly red and tear-stained. 

Scorpius jumped in excitement and threw his hands into the air. “Aren’t you amazing!”

“Scorpius!” Rose exclaimed in despair, now rocking a hysterical Astoria in her arms. “Well — you are amazing, Astoria, you are — but — your first word — it wasn’t supposed to be — Scorpius!”

And, with that, Rose stormed out of the room — her daughter crying and spluttering the name of Scorpius’s beloved Bathilda Bagshot. 


End file.
